Chances
by broncomap
Summary: A Kitty and Matt Story - AU (for sure). MaryRoseEllen gave me the idea for this story. The idea could have gone many different ways. This is the way my mind and imagination took it. Thank you MaryRoseEllen. I hope the following 6 chapters don't disappoint you.
1. Chapter 1

Squish. "Ugh." Kitty Russell had set just one foot outside the stagecoach, and cold mud penetrated her shoe. She gingerly set the other foot down and shivered as she stood. In all of her 19 years, she'd never been so cold. Larry, the burly stagecoach driver, ambled over and spit a wad of tobacco into the street. "Miss, we'll be here in Dodge for 'bout an hour." He pointed across the street. "There's a place ta eat, if ya hungry."

"Thank you." She tightened her shawl around her thin shoulders, and glanced at the squat buildings that lined the street. "Please don't leave without me." Taking care to avoid puddles, she hurried across the street, hoping that oatmeal and coffee wouldn't set her back too much. She got to the restaurant and pushed the door open. Bells tinkled above her head, and curious folks looked over to see who'd come in. She was too cold and hungry to notice, but her beautiful hair and graceful figure drew more than one appreciative glance. She picked her way to the back of the room, and sat at a small table. Admiring eyes went back to their meals. A waiter came over, wiped his hands on his pants and pulled a pen from behind his ear. "Ma'am, what can I get you?" "Oatmeal and coffee, please." "Do you want some maple syrup in that oatmeal?" "Does it cost extra?" "Just a penny." She hesitated, but nodded. A touch of sweetness was much needed on this cold and rainy morning. The waiter saw her shiver and decided to hurry her order. Minutes later she was happily digging into sweet, steaming oatmeal. She heard the bells above the door ring and idly looked over. In walked the biggest man she had ever seen in her life. He glanced around the room, and from the looks he received, it was obvious he was respected and well-liked. She couldn't make out any words, but as the big man greeted folks, the warmth of his voice made her wish he was speaking to her. He took a seat at the table directly across from her, and she was struck by how handsome he was. She was close enough to see his eyes. They were impossibly blue and clear – eyes that didn't lie – eyes that saw right into a person. He was quickly served the biggest breakfast she had ever seen in her life, but he dug right in like it was normal. A smile touched her lips as she watched him polishing off all the ham and eggs and biscuits. She suddenly realized she was staring, and self-consciously lowered her eyes. She resumed spooning oatmeal into her mouth, but didn't taste a thing. Awareness of the man had taken over her senses. She was drawn to him in a way she'd never experienced. Her skin tingled.

"More coffee, Miss? There's no charge for refills."

She jumped in her seat, startled by the waiter. "Um – please." She wanted to ask who the big man was, but couldn't find the words. The waiter filled her cup and walked away. The bells above the door rang again. A man with a stiff leg, hurried in looking frazzled. He quickly limped over to the big man and said something in his ear. The man let out a long sigh in response, and didn't move for a moment. Finally, he shook his head, ran his hand through his dark curls and pushed himself up from the table. The stiff legged man followed him outside.

As the door closed, Kitty felt an odd sense of loss. Her hands trembled as she picked up her coffee cup. The bells tinkled again and she looked up eagerly, hoping the big man had returned. Instead it was Larry, chewing a wad of tobacco. He walked over to her table, "Miss, we're leavin' soon. I'm gatherin' the passengers. If ya wanna continue on, no time ta waste."

"Thank you, Larry." The driver nodded and moved on to find the other passengers. Kitty opened her purse, carefully counted out a few coins and placed them on the table to pay for breakfast. A quick reckoning told her that she had $39.60 left. Not enough to take her much farther. She got to her feet but didn't move. Something held her in place. Outside, Larry was loudly telling passengers to hurry along. She knew the stage was leaving soon, with or without her. She rushed out the door and looked up the street, and then and down the other way. Maybe that man, that big man with the blue eyes would return, and maybe … She shook her head – _Kitty Russell get a hold of yourself. A man like that would have every woman around setting her sights on him – lots of them pretty and some of them rich. A man like that has his pick. Why would he give you a second look? Besides, staying in a town because of a man you noticed in a restaurant is crazy, plain crazy. Especially since he didn't notice you._

"Oh, there you are Miss. I was afraid we'd have to leave without you." "No, no I'm coming." She hurried to the stagecoach door. Larry held out his hand. She took it and climbed inside.

"All right folks, I see everyone has returned. Not that I expected anyone to stay in Dodge. It's a pretty wild place." Larry spit out his tobacco and climbed up into the driver's seat. The stage took off. Kitty looked out the window. The rain was growing heavier, and there was nothing to see but mud splashing up from the wheels. She couldn't recall what the next stop was. It didn't matter, it was hours and hours away, wherever it was. She leaned back in her seat and pulled her shawl closer, trying to stay warm.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

20 Years Later – Dodge City

"What do you mean you're not going? You have to go." Doc Adams leaned across Matt Dillon's desk and looked him in the eye. "This very morning, at breakfast, we decided we'd walk over together."

"That was when I thought it was just a regular town hall meeting. Festus spilled the beans this afternoon. Doc, I don't like that kind of fuss and you know it. I can't believe you were in on it."

"Never mind all that. Festus messing up doesn't change the fact that you have to go. Matt, the whole town, and beyond, got together to plan and pay for a retirement party for you. Folks need a way to thank you for everything you've done. They need a way to show their appreciation, and yes, their love. You're going for their sake not yours."

An awkward silence hung in the air. Matt stared down at his hands. After a few minutes of feeling Doc's eyes bore into him, he let out a long breath. "All right, let's go." He grabbed his hat from a wall peg and followed his old friend out the door. They walked down Front Street without speaking until they got to the Town Hall. Doc reached for the doorknob and looked at Matt, "Be sure to act surprised." He opened the door and ushered Matt in. Confetti flew, Sam Noonan hit the fiddle, and voices broke out in song - _For he's a jolly good fellow,_ _for he's a jolly good fellow_, _for he's a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny._

Matt feigned surprise, but when he saw all the men, women and children gathered there, emotion hit him like a sledgehammer. He moved from person to person, shaking hands, patting backs and listening to remembrances – the little orphan girl he brought into town – the drought of eight years ago – the gang that took over and almost killed him – gunslingers – charlatans – preachers – folks that came and settled – folks that left or died here.

Doc stood back and watched Matt for a while before joining Festus across the room. "Festus, I'll have you know you almost ruined this whole thing. Matt wasn't coming because you let it slip out, that it was a retirement party not a meeting."

"Now Doc, don't ya go bein' so high and mighty, like ya never made no mistake in ya whole, entire life. Anyways, it don't matter none. Matthew's here and looks ta be havin' a fine time."

Doc ran a hand across his mustache, "Well, as fine a time as he ever has. That job of his has been an awful heavy burden, and he's carried it alone."

"Hold on now Doc. Maybe I ain't the schooliest deputy that's ever been, but I tried my darndest ta help Matthew."

"Festus, you've been a help, and we've both been good friends to him. I'm thinking of something – well – deeper. Matt's spent a lot of years facing down the worst ugliness that mankind has to offer, but he's never had someone to go to for solace and comfort. A person who could help him escape for a bit, and ease the weight of that burden."

"Well Doc, Matthew never took up with a woman. Course he went upstairs with this or that saloon girl, now and again, like any healthy man that ain't married does. But, as far as I could see, he never gave no woman a chance to git close, and be in his life. You and I both know, Doc, lots a fine ladies gave him the eye, but he never took up with any of one them. Why do ya suppose that is, Doc?"

"Matt always said that a man with a job as dangerous as his, didn't have the right to a permanent relationship. Maybe it's that simple, but there could be more to it. I just don't know."

Festus shrugged. "Jus could be the right she-male never came to Dodge."

Doc rubbed his mustache. "It would have taken quite the woman to win Marshal Matt Dillon over." He heard a commotion and pointed to the center of the room. "Festus, it looks like Matt's about to give a toast. Let's get some drinks and join in."

Matt stood in the middle of the hall and held up his glass. When he'd made the decision to retire, his hope was to slip away with no goodbyes. Now he was grateful for this chance. Everyone lifted a glass, and looked up at him with shining eyes. He swallowed hard. "I just want to say that being your marshal has been the greatest honor a man could ask for. Thank you all." He threw back his drink. Everyone followed his lead, and then applauded loudly. He waved and walked off, emotionally drained and eager to escape the limelight. There was one more thing he had to do. He spotted Doc and Festus off in a corner and headed over. Doc meant more to him than anyone in the world. He would not have survived the past 20 years without the wisdom, friendship and medical skills of Doctor Galen Adams. As for Festus, he had his own brand of wisdom and a loyalty as deep as the ocean. "Doc - Festus, I'll say goodbye now. I'm riding out at dawn."

"Matthew, I still don't git why ya don't stay in Dodge where ya got friends and folk that care about ya."

"Festus, like I said before, it wouldn't be fair to the new marshal. People are used to coming to me with their problems. The new man has to be able to exert his authority, and that would be tough with me around. Besides, for a while hotheads will continue to come here, thinking they can build a reputation by drawing on me. That will stop a lot sooner if I'm gone. It's just best for everyone."

"Matt, for all your explanations, I still don't understand." Doc shook his head. "You decide to retire – all of a sudden - out of the blue – no discussion with anyone, and now you're heading off on an aimless journey.

Matt gave a short laugh. "Doc you have a knack for putting things in the worst light. Don't think of it as aimless. I'm just traveling until I figure out what to do next. If I'm lucky, I'll reach a town where something will tell me it's the right place to stay." He smiled crookedly. "If that doesn't happen – well - when I run out of money, I'll have to stop and earn a living."

"Not much of a plan if you ask me." Doc put a hand on Matt's arm. All gruffness left his voice. "If I can't keep you from leaving, promise you'll be in touch. At least let us know where you settle. And if you ever need – I don't have to say it."

"No, you don't have to say it." Matt was about to say more, but couldn't trust his voice. He gave a brief nod. "See you later." Eyes straight ahead, he strode out of the Town Hall and headed to his rented room in Ma Smalley's boarding house. He slipped inside, lit a lamp and sat on the side of his bed. For two decades, every night he'd spent in Dodge, had been spent alone in this room. It looked the same now as it had 20 year ago - no pictures or decorations, just a bed with a nightstand, and a small dresser with a water bowl and pitcher on top. He tugged off his boots and grimaced as he stretched out on the bed. The room hadn't changed, but his body sure had. Bullets, stab wounds, nights spent in the saddle – all had taken a toll. No matter, for 20 years, day after day, he'd done his best, and he was proud of that. As for the future, he was a beat up ex-lawman with no prospects and $500 dollars to his name. Bleak was too cheery a word. He drifted off to sleep without undressing.

6 hours later, with the predawn light peeking through the window, his eyes popped open. He stared at the ceiling without moving. He'd had that dream again. Was it a dream, or was it a memory that sometimes filled his mind when he was falling asleep or waking up? At this point he couldn't be sure. He did know it was always the same, to the tiniest detail. He'd had a hard night, woke up hungry and hurried to the restaurant. It was crowded and he sat at a small table across from a young woman he'd never seen before. She was beautiful. Her hair was an amazing red, and it fell to her shoulders, damp and wavy. Her eyes were more than beautiful. They glowed with life, intelligence and humor. She seemed delicate and sweet, but something told him that she had an iron strength within her. He was drawn to her like a magnet, and could see she was watching him but trying not to be obvious. He started thinking of ways to introduce himself - _I'm Matt Dillon, welcome to Dodge_. OR _I'm Marshal Matt Dillon_. OR _My name's Matt Dillon,_ _I'm the marshal, if you need anything. _That was as far as he got when Chester rushed in to tell him some ranchers were in his office about a stolen calf - 1 stolen calf. He reluctantly went with Chester, promising himself he'd deal with the situation quickly and hurry back to the restaurant. He wasn't fast enough, when he got there she was gone.

Matt stiffly climbed out of bed and took a deep breath. That dream or memory, or whatever it was, invariably left him with feelings that were hard to shake. He wondered if those eyes, lit from within, belonged to a real woman, or one he conjured up in his imagination when he was between wakefulness and sleep. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What did it matter, anyway?

He changed his clothes, pulled a duffle bag from beneath his bed and stuffed his things inside. After a last look around, he set the key to the room on the dresser and stepped out into the early morning light. Thankful that no one was around, he went to the stable, saddled his horse and rode out of Dodge City, Kansas for the last time.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Kitty Russell stood at the end of the bar in the Broken Branch saloon, deep in thought and nursing a beer. In a few days she'd turn 39, and an approaching birthday with that number attached, made a person pensive. She glanced around the room and decided she had a lot to be proud of. Owning one of the best saloons in Colorado, certainly the best in Breckenridge, was quite an accomplishment, particularly for a woman. She sipped her beer and thought about the journey that had brought her here. She was just turning 19 when she left New Orleans, eager to get away from her selfish father and his gambling ways. With the clothes on her back, a small suitcase and the money she'd managed to squirrel away, she set out. She had no destination in mind, just a romantic notion that fate would tell her where she belonged. Of course that didn't happen. Well, there was one time when she thought she heard fate's call. It was in Dodge City, Kansas. She saw a very big man with clear blue eyes and a voice that somehow touched her, and felt a pull to stay. But, for good and sensible reasons, got back on the stage and traveled on. By the time she reached Breckenridge, she was down to her last fifty cents. That was when some of her father's lessons actually paid off. Thanks to him, she knew her way around a saloon and a poker table, so it wasn't hard to convince the owner of the Broken Branch to hire her as a saloon girl. She was smart about it though. After a few years of scrimping and saving, she bought into the place. Soon after she owned it outright, and then built it to what it was today. Kitty smiled, lifted her glass to toast herself and drained her beer mug. As she set her it down she spotted her long time bartender, Harry, deep in conversation with her head saloon girl. She decided to see what they were up to. When she got closer she caught some of their whispered words – _birthday, party, surprise_. Her heart sank. The last thing she wanted was a fuss about her 39th birthday.

"Well, you two are whispering like you're planning a takeover."

Cora jumped back in surprise. "Of course not, Miss Kitty. We're just talking about the – about the – the - weather."

"I see, well I hope the weather, for foreseeable future, will be calm and quiet with no unexpected storms."

Harry stroked his short, brown beard. Blond, sweet-faced Cora looked perplexed. Kitty sighed inwardly, she was being a bit of a grump, and she knew it. "Listen you two, business is slow tonight. I'm going to do some bookkeeping in my office, and then make an early night of it. You know where I am if you need me."

As soon as Kitty was across the room Cora looked up into Harry's lined face. "You don't think she suspects a party, do you?"

"Nope, she doesn't have an inkling. I guarantee it."

Cora nodded with relief. "Harry, Miss Kitty is so fine. Why do you think she never married? You've worked here a long time, but I know she's had offers just in the 3 years I've been here. Real decent men too."

"Oh she's had plenty of offers all right. Came close to marrying a couple of times, but always backed out. I don't know exactly why. She just said it didn't feel right. I sometimes wonder if there's any man who would make it feel right. As you say, there've been some fine ones."

Kitty sat in her small office and opened her ledger. She picked up a pen to work her way down the column marked expenses. After reading the same 2 numbers over and over, she set the pen aside. Her concentration was off. Thinking about the travels of her 19 year old self had stirred something inside her. The stop in Dodge had been brief, but she never forgot that man. She didn't think about him every day or week or month, but he invaded her mind at odd moments. Where was he now? She gave a short laugh. He probably had a parcel of kids, and a plump wife who was as sweet as sugar and a real good cook. Yep, he probably had his arms around that wife right now. A sense of longing swept over her, and tears gathered in her eyes. She slammed her ledger shut and jumped up, annoyed with her strange musings - _Kitty Russell, what on earth are you getting emotional about. Birthdays are be__st ignored. They make a person think crazy thoughts._

She climbed the stairs to the second floor and went into her suite. It had been her home since she owned the saloon, and although it was lovely, working on it had become something of a hobby. She'd decorated and re-decorated the suite many times over, trying to get it just right. Somehow, no matter what furniture she bought, pictures she hung or changes she made, she always felt something was missing, lacking or not quite right. She sat down on an ornate, red settee, leaned back and tried to relax. 39 years old – not exactly old but far from young. Most women her age had been married for years. She'd had chances at marriage, numerous times. The last one had been Will, a charming gunslinger who'd grown weary of his wandering life, and wanted to settle down. He was attractive and attentive, and she came close to saying yes, but didn't. She walked away. She just couldn't picture sharing the rest of her life with him. There'd been other offers too, and she'd walked away from them all. What of it? She had a good life with a successful business and friends who cared enough to give her a surprise birthday party. A party she didn't want. She sighed and got to her feet. Birthdays definitely made a person think too much.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

5 days later

After randomly picking west as a direction, Matt rode with no destination, stopping here or there for the night. There was no place he had to be and nothing he had to get done. No one was one expecting him, counting on him, hoping he'd appear. After 20 years of constant demands and life-or-death pressures, it felt odd. It didn't feel bad, but he couldn't exactly say it felt good. At the age of 45, for the first time in his life, he had no one to worry about but himself, and he was never much for that. When he reached the top of a hill, the path split into 3. He paused to decide which way to go. A sign marked: **Breckenridge ½ mile, **pointed northwest. The other two paths seemed to go on endlessly. The sun was setting. Getting to a town, and finding a beer to clear the trail dust from his throat, seemed like a good idea. He followed the winding path and found himself at the edge of Breckenridge. From what he could judge it was about the size of Dodge, but more of the buildings had 3 or 4 stories. He rode down Main Street in the dusky light until he came to a stable. The door was shut tight, but a note was tacked to it: _Come in, take a stall and tend your horse. We'll settle up in the morning. _Matt smiled to himself. Back when he started as marshal in Dodge, similar notes were left on the stable when Moss Grimmick was off playing poker or craps. He dismounted and did as the note instructed. By the time he had his horse watered and fed, a cold beer sounded better than ever. It had grown dark, but the sounds of music and laugher led him to the Broken Branch saloon. He peered over the batwing doors. The mood inside was festive, and had the feel of a special event. The stable owner's note made sense; he was probably here. He pushed through the doors and stood alone at the far end of the bar. It was the only quiet, deserted area in an otherwise boisterous room.

A bearded bartender spotted him, and tore himself away from the festivities. "Hello stranger, what can I get you?"

"Beer, that is if I'm not interrupting a private party or something. I don't want to intrude."

"No, no everyone's welcome to this celebration. It's for Miss Kitty – Kitty Russell – it's her birthday. You'll never meet a finer woman. She owns the place. Here you go, enjoy the beer. It's on the house in honor of Miss Kitty."

Matt nodded his thanks and his eyes drifted over to an attractive redhead surrounded by a cluster of people. That had to be the Kitty Russell the bartended spoke of. The redhead was smiling and laughing, but even from where he stood, he could tell she wasn't entirely comfortable with all the attention she was getting. He sipped his beer and continued watching. A few minutes later she gracefully broke away from the crowd. The expression on her face made him smile, she was obviously looking for a moment of quiet. He knew he was standing in the only calm and peaceful spot in the room, and wondered what she'd do. She was a few feet away when she spotted him and hesitated, but she must have decided that if she couldn't be alone for a few minutes, being alone with a stranger was the next best thing. She walked over but barely looked at him, and flatly said her standard words of greeting. "Hello Cowboy, you're new here. Welcome to the Broken Branch." Her back was to him. She was focused on the partygoers across the room; they didn't seem to miss her, at least not yet.

"The bartender said this celebration is for your birthday, congratulations."

"Thanks." Her voice had a tinge of sarcasm. She was steeling herself to return to partying crowd.

A smile touched his lips and he spoke to the back of her head. "My guess is that you don't exactly like all the fuss, but your friends wanted to do it. As a wise friend once told me – you do it for their sake, not yours."

She turned and looked up at him. His words had struck a chord, but it wasn't just the words, the sound of his voice touched something deep inside her. She looked into his eyes. They were blue and clear, and filled with kindness. She relaxed under warmth of his gaze. "I guess the more birthdays I have, the less I want a big fuss made about them. You're right though, I should be the best guest of honor I can be, for their sake."

"Miss Kitty" "Oh Kitty" "It's time to open presents." Voices were calling from across the room.

Matt smiled warmly. "It sounds like your friends need you. It's nice to be needed."

She smiled back. "I bet you know all about that. You seem like the kind of man who .… " Cora tugged at her hand. "Come on Kitty, wait 'til you see all your gifts." Kitty found herself being pulled along, but held the tall stranger's eyes until she was swallowed into the crowd. He smiled crookedly and watched her disappear. His head was reeling. He'd been a lawman for a long, long time, and had learned when to doubt himself. This was not one of those times. The eyes he'd just looked into had been in his dreams for 20 years. She was real - the woman who'd stopped in Dodge for breakfast all those years ago. The face and body had changed, 20 years was a long time. Yet she was still beautiful, just in a more womanly way. He took another sip of beer, _Well, at least I know you're real, not something my mind conjured up out of thin air. And, you have a name_. _You've done well for yourself Kitty Russell. You own a successful business and are surrounded by friends. May your life continue in happiness._ He set his unfinished beer on the bar, and went through the batwing doors into the cool night air.

Kitty was led to a large cushioned chair that was festooned with ribbons and paper flowers. Harry took her hand. "Sit, Miss Kitty, and open your gifts." Smiling happily, she sat down and looked across the room to wave the stranger over. They'd just met, but she wanted – no needed to have him near. Her smile faded and her face dropped. He was gone, his half empty beer mug left on the bar. A gift was shoved into her hands. She looked down. It was a present from Cora, wrapped with care. She plastered on a smile and opened it. Her mouth formed words of appreciation. She opened another gift and another, and said all the right words. Her heart wasn't in it. More than ever she realized that she didn't need another pretty trinket, shawl, or vase for her room. What exactly she needed was hard to explain, but in a few fleeting moments, that stranger had given her a taste of it.

When the last gift was opened, she looked at her friends and acquaintances. "Thank you all so much. You've made this birthday very special. Now, go have another drink and enjoy yourselves. Shoo, shoo." She waved them off with a bright smile. A smile that fooled them all, but she knew the stranger would have seen right through. She stayed behind, seated on the colorfully decorated chair, feeling anything but festive.

Matt wandered along the dark, deserted streets looking for a place to spend the night. There was a hotel at the end of Main Street, but he was hoping to avoid hotel prices. To his relief he came upon a handwritten sign outside a large, rundown house - **Martha's Boarding House**. He knocked on the door and heard shuffling feet followed by a gruff voice, "Say something so I know you ain't drunk. I don't take to drunks staying in my place."

"I'm not drunk. I just want a room for the night. I'll be gone in the morning."

Martha opened the door a crack. Matt could see an eyeball, strands of gray hair and the front of a rifle. After a few seconds, Martha opened the door all the way. "Well ya don't sound or look drunk, so on come in, but if ya just here for one night why ain't ya stayin' in the hotel. Mosta my customers stay a while."

"Boarding houses have better rooms, and they …."

"and they include breakfast and are cheaper." She finished his sentence and they both chuckled. She quickly grew serious. I want payment now, $3, and if ya want breakfast before 6am ya gotta fix it yourself and clean up after. What's your name?"

"Matt Dillon." He fished in his pocket for his wallet.

"Wait, I know that name. Ya been in the papers over the years. You're the man that tamed Dodge City, Kansas. And I'll tell ya something else, my brother Luke and his wife Tabitha, they got themselves a spread in Kansas maybe 7 - 8 years ago. They wrote me how ya kept things safe for them. You're a good man, Matt Dillon." She looked up at him with respect. "But it'll still cost ya $3. Ain't no discounts fur goodness." She held out her hand.

"Of course." He put three dollars in her palm and was quickly shown to a room at the end of the hall. Without bothering to light a lamp, he shed his clothes and got under the blankets. The bed was big and comfortable and it should have been easy to fall sleep – should have been. He put his hands behind his head and stared into the darkness. Kitty Russell, a name and an answer to the question of whether she was a memory or someone his mind had invented. 20 years ago, Kitty Russell had watched him eat breakfast, stared in fact, while trying not to be obvious. He'd wanted to speak to her back then, but never had the chance. Now she was a woman with her own business and a happy life filled with friends. He was a broken down ex-lawman with less than five hundred dollars to his name. A woman like Kitty Russell would have no need or space in her life for someone like him, he had nothing to offer or add to that life. He turned over on his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. Dawn was fast approaching.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Kitty kept up a good front, but was emotionally spent by the time the last well-wishers left the Broken Branch. After assuring Cora and Harry that the mess could wait until morning, she locked the door behind them with a sigh of relief, and plodded up the stairs to her suite. Eager for bed, she quickly washed her face, climbed out of her clothes and crawled under the blankets. With her quilt pulled up passed her chin, she closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. She tossed and turned, dozed for a moment, woke and stared at the ceiling, replaying every word, look and smile she'd shared with the tall, blue eyed stranger. They'd spent mere minutes together, but she'd never felt so understood. Why did he leave? Surely he was as drawn to her as she was to him. Or maybe he wasn't.

After hours of restless attempts to sleep, she saw the morning light peek through the window and sat up. She had to try to find him. She'd never forgive herself if she didn't. She rubbed her tired eyes and tried to think logically. Fact was, there weren't many places in town for a visitor to stay. There was the Breckenridge Hotel, Martha's boarding house and a couple of people who rented out rooms. Instinct told her to try Martha's first. She quickly got into a white blouse and dark skirt, organized her hair and hurried off. The boarding house was a few blocks away. As she neared she saw Martha on the porch, reading a newspaper. She quickened her pace, but tried not to run. "Good morning Martha. I'm here to see a guest of yours. At least, I think he's a guest – a very tall man with broad shoulders. He arrived last night, I believe."

"Yep, that would be Matt Dillon."

"Matt Dillon." Kitty frowned, "Name sounds familiar."

"Ya probably read his name in the papers now and again. He was the marshal of Kansas territory, out of Dodge City. Everybody says he was the best. Anyways, he was here but he left before dawn. I'll tell ya, he did a right good job of cleaning up after cooking himself breakfast. Men like that are rare. Why ya wanna talk to him?"

Kitty had stopped listening at the words, "Dodge City." Her eyes widened. It suddenly made sense – the voice – the eyes – the attraction. He was the man she'd seen in Dodge all those years ago - the reason she almost stayed. He'd changed, who didn't in 20 years, but the eyes and voice were his, and he was still handsome, just in the rugged way of a man who'd lived a life without putting himself first.

"Did ya hear me, Kitty? He left before dawn. Why ya looking for him? Did he stiff ya on a bar tab or somethin'? He sure don't seem the type for that."

"No, no, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks." She hurried out into the street, and peered in one direction and then the other. It was useless, and she knew it, Matt Dillon was long gone. Shoulders slumped, she headed back to the saloon feeling sad and empty, but trying to convince herself that there was no reason to feel that way, no reason at all.

"Hello Kitty Russell."

She heard his voice from behind and spun around. Her face betrayed her excitement, but she didn't care. "Hello Matt Dillon. I thought - Martha said you left."

"I did. I got a couple of miles outside of town and I - I turned back, thinking maybe we should talk. That was probably foolish of me." He looked at her. Uncertainty filled his eyes.

She smiled up at him. "We should talk. I think – um – privacy would be a good idea. Come up to my place."

He followed her up the back stairs of the Broken Branch. Now that she had agreed that they should talk, he had no idea what he should say. He only knew that after setting out before dawn, the further he got from Breckenridge the stronger he felt the pull to return. They reached the 2nd floor. The air was thick with perfume from the women who lived and worked up there. Kitty led him to the end of the hall and opened the door. Once inside he removed his hat, and standing stiffly, held it in front of him with both hands. She felt as nervous as he looked and they stood in awkward silence for a few minutes. Finally she cleared her throat and looked up at him, "Have a seat, Matt. I'll go get us some coffee." She disappeared through a door. He hung his hat and gun belt on a wall peg and looked around. To his left was a dining area with a mahogany table and chairs. To his right a red settee, small coffee table and tiny wood cabinet. Should he go left to the dining table or right to the settee? He wasn't sure where she wanted him to sit, and somehow a lifetime of hard decisions had not prepared him to make this one. Feeling foolish at his indecision, he took a deep breath, chose the settee and sat down. Seconds later Kitty reappeared with two cups of coffee. He noticed she'd put on a touch of makeup, and brushed her hair back into curls. She handed him a steaming cup and sat beside him, making sure there was space between their bodies.

He was relieved when she spoke first. "I learned your name from Martha, and then I realized I'd seen you before. It was a long time ago, and I'm sure you didn't notice me. I was barely 19 and …"

"We were at breakfast, sitting at tables across from each other. You were watching me, but trying not to be obvious. You couldn't know, but I was practicing ways to introduce myself when I got called away. When I came back to look for you, you were gone."

She smiled gently and whispered, "I didn't think you noticed, and I didn't know who you were until this morning."

"I was a pretty new marshal back then, just 25 years old." He smiled crookedly, "And being a marshal is pretty much what my life's been about ever since."

"US Marshal is quite a job. I've read about you in the newspapers over the years, you were known for being good at it. Recently I read that you retired. That must have been a big decision. What made you retire after all that time?"

He looked into her eyes. He'd been asked that question many times, but had never given an honest answer, not even to Doc, much to his old friends dismay. "I guess, in a way, the job left me." He saw she was patiently waiting for more and realized that, for the first time, he wanted to talk about it. "Things happened over the years, on the job – bullet wounds, stab wounds, nights in the saddle in all kinds of weather, stuff like that. I felt the toll it took, but could mostly ignore it. Then, a few weeks ago, I rode into Dodge at 3 in the morning, after spending the better part of 4 days and nights in the saddle. I'd been tracking a killer. When I found him we fought it out. He ended up dead, and I buried him out on the range. When I got back to Dodge I crawled into bed feeling all chewed up." He took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing to say, but when I woke up, my back ached so much and my leg was so stiff, it took me 20 minutes to get out of bed. It took another 10 for me to be able to bend my leg enough to walk. Right then I knew I had to give up the badge. My mind could do the job, but my body was betraying me. I couldn't risk the lives and safety of the people I swore I'd protect, just because I wanted to hang on to a badge." He shook his head. "So, I wired the War Department that morning. They weren't happy, but I gave them no choice. 10 days later I was officially retired."

Kitty watched his face and listened intently. This man had spent his life protecting others, and when he felt couldn't live up to his standards, he had the grit to walk away from everything he knew. It was a courageous act, and he didn't even know it. She reached out and took his hand in both of hers. He felt the touch of her soft, warm skin, and was more drawn to her than ever. He quickly stood and stepped away. "I should go."

Startled, Kitty frowned in puzzlement before total ire set in. She jumped up and crossed her arms in front of her. "What are you doing? Is this some disappearing act you practice every time you see me? It is not amusing."

"Kitty." He looked at her; she was so full of life, so beautiful. "Kitty, you are an amazing woman. You have your own business, and it's a fine one. You have friends who care about you, and a place in the community. I'm a broken down ex-lawman, with a few hundred dollars to his name. I have nothing to offer you. You don't need me in your life, in fact, I'd be …"

Kitty waved a hand and cut him off, eyes blazing. "First, I will decide what I need in MY life. Second, after 20 years of service as a US Marshal, you will not speak of yourself that way. Third, you are more than an ex-lawman, a lot more. Mister, SIT DOWN." She pointed to the sofa.

Matt's jaw dropped. He'd faced down a lot of people in his time, but no one had ever spoken to him that way. He moved his mouth, but nothing came out. Not knowing what else to do, he sat back down, and stared at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. She sat beside him somewhat stiffly, and did the same. Slowly they turned their heads and looked at each other. Their eyes locked, the corners of their mouths twitched, grins spread across their faces, and they laughed and laughed some more. When they finally quieted down, they inched closer until they were almost touching. "Kitty, I've seen you in my dreams for 20 years. Tell me about your life. Don't leave out a thing. I want to know every detail."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you readers for sticking with this story. A special thanks to everyone who left comments. I love hearing your thoughts, insights and ideas. A HUGE, HUGE thank you to MaryRoseEllen for having a great idea and generously sending it my way. On with the finale.

The Next Morning

Kitty slowly opened her eyes but didn't stir. With her head resting on Matt's broad chest, his strong arms around her, she felt happier and more content than she thought she ever could be. They'd spent every second of the past 24 hours together, except for the few minutes it took for her to hurry downstairs to ask Cora and Harry to run the saloon for the night. It was magical almost, the way she and Matt had talked and listened, and opened up in ways that were new to both of them. Somewhere along the way she realized that this was the one she had to spend the rest of her life with. As they talked late into the night, going to bed together was a natural progression, not a decision. She sighed with contentment and ran a hand across his chest.

"Pretty awful, isn't it?"

She snuggled closer, "I didn't know you were awake. What's pretty awful?"

"The scars on my chest and shoulders, not to mention my leg and back."

"Cowboy, with a body like yours – it would take a lot more than a few scars, to put it in the vicinity of awful."

He laughed, and it felt good. The kind of joy he found with Kitty was so intense and luxurious, he was sure there was no word for it. He rubbed the side of her leg and thought about all the things they'd talked about. "Kitty, we talked so much yesterday – about everything really – and made some big decisions. I want to be sure that you don't think we're moving too fast."

She lifted her face and looked into his eyes, "Matt, by my reckoning, we should have had 20 years together by now, and I don't want to waste another minute. But, if you think we're moving too fast, we …"

He interrupted her with a long and tender kiss. When their lips parted she whispered, "Good answer, Cowboy. So, this morning we'll wire those friends you told me about, Doc Adams and Festus Haggen. We'll let them know we plan to marry, but want to wait until they get here. After sending the wire, we can ride out to John Mason's ranch. It's small, like I said, but he's eager to sell and folks say he has good horse stock. Oh Matt, it could be so right for us, and we'll grow it. Like you said last night, you were raised on a ranch and miss it, and the ranching business is perfect for me. I can use my business skills without dealing with slobbering drunks, smoke filled rooms and crazy cowboys.

"Kitty, I love the idea too, but no matter how eager John Mason is to sell, we'll need a bank loan to pull it off."

"We'll work all that out. I have the saloon to use for collateral. I know that bankers don't view saloons as stable businesses, but your reputation counts for a lot, so between the two of us we'll get a loan, and before long we'll have the best horse ranch in Colorado." She was glowing with excitement.

He kissed her forehead and grinned. "You're right. We can do it and…"

A sudden noise stopped their conversation, gunshots outside. Matt quickly got out of bed and looked through the window. Kitty was close behind. "Is that the town sheriff, Kitty?"

"Yes, Sheriff Patterson."

Matt grabbed his pants from the floor. "It looks like 2, no 3 men are after him." He threw on his clothes and raced into the front room to grab his gun belt. Kitty hurried after him and stood in front of the door. Her voice was shaky. "Matt, you're not a lawman anymore. Please, we just found each other, don't risk it, don't risk us. Let someone else..,"

"I'm not a lawman anymore, but what kind of man do you want me to be?"

With fear in her eyes she stepped aside, and he hurried down the stairs.

He reached the street in time to see Patterson crumble to the ground with a bullet in his leg. The 3 shooters were closing in to finish him off at close range. "Hold it." Matt's voice boomed though air. One of the three turned to fire. Matt shot first, the man went down. The other two shifted their focus from the sheriff to Matt. They started firing. Matt quickly took cover behind a wagon. The men kept shooting. Wood chips flew as bullets ricocheted off the side of the wagon. Matt fired back as best he could, while trying to stay down. Sheriff Patterson pressed a hand on his leg wound. Blood streamed out between his fingers. He spotted the gun that had flown from his hand when he was hit. He dragged himself towards it, inch by inch, but the few feet between him and that gun may as well have been a mile. The gunmen kept shooting at Matt while closing in on the wagon. Matt had to take a chance. He stood and fired. One man went down. Matt felt a searing pain across his shoulder and staggered back. The remaining gunman took aim, eager for a kill. He fell forward on his face. Patterson's bullet had pierced his spine. Matt stepped out from behind the wagon and looked up at Kitty's window. No one was there. He wondered if she'd been too shaken to watch.

People poured into the street from everywhere. Matt scanned the crowd but didn't see a redhead. His heart sank, but before he had time to think, he and Patterson were swept off into the doctor's office. Minutes later he found himself alone in the back room, while the doctor tended to the sheriff in the front. With one hand gripping his wound, he moved his shoulder in a circle. It stung and was getting stiff, but he could tell wasn't bad. He sat on the exam table and thought about what had happened and the look of fear on Kitty's face. Fact was, even if he'd never been a lawman, he would have stepped in to help that sheriff. It was the right thing to do. As soon as the doctor was finished with him, he'd find Kitty and explain, and hope he hadn't ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Let's have a look at that shoulder, I'm Doctor Kline." A bearded man, with a business like manner, walked in and closed the door behind him.

"How's the sheriff?"

"He's alive, thanks to you. The leg will be fine, but he'll have to stay off it for a couple of weeks. His deputy will be back from a trial tonight, and I guarantee it will be a long two weeks for him. Now, let's get that shirt off."

Doctor Kline helped Matt shed his torn and bloodied shirt, and tossed it aside. He took a long look at Matt's shoulder. "The bullet didn't go in, but that's a deep and nasty gash. I'll have to clean and bandage it, so it doesn't get infected."

The doctor proceeded quickly and efficiently without the constant banter Doc always subjected him to. He had to admit he missed it."

"All right. That does it. You can go whenever you're ready." Kline put a hand on the doorknob. "Oh, someone wanted to see you. I asked her to wait until I was done. That's my policy. I don't like an audience when I treat patients."

The doctor opened the door, and as he left, Kitty briskly walked in carrying something over her arm. She held it up. "Matt, I saw that your shirt got wrecked. I didn't know where you had your extra clothes, so I went and bought this. You'll look good in blue, and I'm sure I got the right size."

They smiled at each other for a long moment, and she helped him into the shirt. "Let me button it for you, so you don't have to strain your shoulder."

They both knew that wasn't necessary, but they also knew that she was shaken by what happened, and needed something to do.

"Kitty, I know this was hard on you." He let out a heavy sigh. "All those years ago, if we'd managed to talk that day and became a – a couple, this would have been part of your life. Maybe that wouldn't have been such a good idea. 20 years is long time to put up with things like this and worse, much worse. Who knows if we would have gotten through it."

She slowly kept buttoning until she reached the top of the shirt, and finally looked up into his eyes. "Matt, I know myself. If this kind of thing and worse, had been part of my life, I guarantee that at times I would have gotten scared, frustrated and maybe even angry, but I – we - would have lasted those 20 years, because we belong together. Our love is stronger than anything. That's why, now that we've found each other, I don't want to waste a minute."

He pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "I don't either." He kissed her neck. She put her arms around him and held tight. "And Matt, you are, most definitely, the man I want you to be. You always were and always will be."

There was a knock at the door, "Mister Dillon, I need this room to see a patient, so if you don't need anything else, I'd like to use it in a couple of minutes."

"Sure thing Doctor Kline." Matt slid off the table, and looked into the eyes that had been in his dreams for 20 years. This woman was real, and he was the luckiest man alive. "Like you said, Kitty, let's not waste a minute. We've got wires to send, a ranch to see, and a life to live. The best is yet to be."

The End


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